21 Down...59 To Go

So Friday is Black Friday, and if you read my earlier blog, you already know that I'm not participating. You might have noticed that I'm more interested in the ECU football game that day. What I didn't mention is that Friday is also our 21st wedding anniversary. And yes, we are celebrating by attending a football game. There won't be any romantic little boxes waiting for me. That's really not our thing. But, I bet I can talk him into buying me a new sweatshirt.

I read this article yesterday on the ABC news site - John and Ann Betar Celebrate 80th Wedding Anniversary. It's a wonderful story about love and staying in love, and it's a story I see when I visit my parents, and one I get to experience every day in my own life. I've been blessed by having this man in my life. After 21 years, I can say that I am married to my best friend, and my life is better with him than it ever would have been without him. I'm not sure why I've been so blessed. I know better people than me who are alone, and I know better people than me who have had horrible marriages. We've definitely had our ups and downs, and we've experienced the loss of loved ones, job loss, moves, mean people, health scares - in other words - life. But we've always managed to pull together as a team.

Now, I don't want to completely sugar coat it. There are times that the immortal words of that wonderful bard, Pink, have come to mind:
"Go away, 
 Give me a chance to miss you,
 Say goodbye,
 It'll make me want to kiss you." 
"Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely)" - "I'm Not Dead" album

I mean, let's get real. I bet Cinderella started getting irritated by Prince Charming's inability hang up his sash and medals not long after the wedding. And I'm sure her inability to keep from losing expensive shoes was a bummer. Marriage is hard. Compromise, negotiations, snoring, bills, mouthwash....

But at the end of the day to be able to laugh with someone you love, whether over today or over the awful photographer at your wedding, it makes it all worth while. I'm not much of one to give unsolicited advice except to my teenagers, and they don't usually hear me anyway, but if I were to give one piece of advice it isn't to never go to bed angry. Nope, my one piece of advice would be to find a way to laugh at it. A good sense of humor - now that REALLY helps in staying married.

Daddy and Momma have been married for 57 years. His memory is fading, but he still can laugh and he can still make Momma laugh. She was complaining about someone who was voting for the "wrong" candidate. Daddy asked how old this person was. When Momma answered, "90." He quickly replied, "Don't worry about it. She doesn't have many more elections to go against you. You're younger."

Yep, laughter...I can live with that.

Black Friday???

"Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas perhaps, means a little bit more." The Grinch

BLACK FRIDAY!!! As an accountant I get why it's called black. When I first started learning accounting it was literally at the knee of my father. And back in the dark ages, we used these things called ledgers, and pencils (pens if you were very, very good at numbers), and scratch pads. If the number was a loss, you used red so it stood out. But if the number was a gain or a profit - BLACK, baby.

Now I have nothing against a company making money. I'm rather partial to it since they tend to lay off fewer of us when they are profitable. But I'm rather disgusted by the spectacle that the holidays have become, and that the stores believe they should open on THANKSGIVING DAY!

I tried Black Friday, but like a reformed smoker, I abhor it. Getting up early wasn't a problem, but the crowds, the pushing, the shoving, the meanness - the person I became as my natural competitiveness was sparked - uh, no, not for me. And now, they want to open on Thanksgiving Day. 

So we can't even give it the one day waiting period?? I understand the need to show others our love and appreciation. I sorta want some of that directed my way, too. But the bigger, better, more...the cheaper, quicker, gotta have...it just doesn't seem to be the way these holidays were intended to be. At Thanksgiving, we should give thanks - for love, for health, for family, for friends - not for beating down someone to the last blue light special. And the employees made to give up their day - maybe they'd like to give thanks at home, too.

My Thanksgiving Day will be spent muttering over how the men don't help in the kitchen enough, and then realizing how much I love every one of those incompetent, err unaware in the kitchen, guys (must point out that my older brother will be the exception here). My Black Friday will be spent in PURPLE since my beloved ECU has a home football game, and we're all going together. So the only numbers involved will be on the backs of jerseys and on the scoreboard. My early gift will be just that - together with family, and maybe a new ECU shirt along the way. Maybe it's just me...but no thank you, I don't want more. Well, maybe more touchdowns...

Parenting and The Hallelujah Chorus

By the time I was seven, I was an Aunt. By the time I was 21, I was the Aunt of ten. When I married at 26, there were two more miracles of fun-loving, spirit-lifting blessings added into the mix of nieces and nephews. I didn’t have little brothers and sisters, but I had the best of my sisters and my brother around me at one point or another through my life. They taught me patience, they taught me wonder, but most of all they taught me that I was a fool if I believed that you can control every single minute of a child’s behavior. Of course, nothing compares with having children of your own.

I've been called to the Principal’s Office as an adult on a couple of occasions, and while I felt every bit as guilty as a fifth grader caught shooting a spit ball, there were instances that I laughed…hard. My children are not perfect, but they are perfectly mine, and while I cringe at the rolling eyes and innuendo that I’m dumber than dirt, or the spontaneous combustion of behavior that is my five-year-old son, I am so graced to be their Mama. That’s why I crack up at some of the childless who are on their way into parenthood.

I can’t begin to count the times I've heard “I would never let my child do that,” or “How can you laugh at what your child just did?” Hate to tell ya, but children will do a ton of things that will make us question our sanity and strain our patience. I had a call two weeks ago from THE Principal while I was elbow deep in paper work at my job. My cherub faced boy had eluded the teachers at bathroom break, turned off the lights, and hid in one of the stalls. He was, of course, sent to the office where the principal told me, “Mrs. Carman, I think he had way too much fun just talking with me. As soon as he said he was sorry, he wanted to talk about my day.” That’s my boy.

When I questioned him about what he did, he had an open-eyed look on his face as he told me in a confidential whisper, “Mama, they called my name a couple of times, and you know what? I didn't answer them!” I had to leave the room and straighten my face. When I had “Stern Mommy” firmly in place, I explained that he should always be with his class, that what he did wasn't safe, and that even though he thought it would be fun, it disrupted class time for his classmates. He understood, and told me he was sorry, but in the same breath he told me he just wanted to see what would happen.

When my daughter was three, she witnessed a baptism at church. She was fascinated, and asked more questions than an interrogator at Gitmo. The next day she had a bucket of sand that she carried from one landscape area to another, sprinkling each one with sand and saying in a tone way too serious for her years, “I baptize you in the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit.” Then the bucket of sand fell over and I heard her exclaim, “Oh shit!” I was on her quicker than she could blink, telling her how wrong it was to say that word, and then asking her where she heard it. When she named another adult in the neighborhood I felt righteous indignation, until she added, “and you, Mama.”

Our children teach us about how beautifully messy life is, and how we can only control what we do as individuals, more than any self-help book out on the market. They remind us of all that is hopeful and innocent, even in the midst of their acting out. Parenting is full of extremes within extremes. Parenthood is laughter, tears, hopes, fears and all of the yearning to keep our children safe and innocent for as long as possible. Whatever my children do, whether I would “let” them do it or not, they have taught me, as I hope to teach them. One moment the bottom falls out, and the next you hear the Hallelujah Chorus, and I wouldn't know what to do if life were any other way.

The Therapy of Driving...

Ok, I've never pretended to like taking my kids to school. Even they know it's something I really don't enjoy. Yeah, I know I should've been less vocal. But this way the therapist will have something to talk to them about.

"Why do you think your mother hated taking you to school? Do you think it was because she would miss you terribly while you were away?"

"Nope. I think she just thought people drove like they had their head up their @ss."

Hmm, therapy might not cost so much after all.

I am not the world's best driver, despite my constant lectures to the sixteen year old about what is and what isn't proper driving. I can say that I have been ticket and accident free for quite some time (knock on wood). But I've got to give some credit to my guardian angel, and some to the fact that I do not find my iPhone to NEED my constant care and feeding.

The count this morning on the way to the high school:

One broken down car in the middle lane (bless their heart, we've all been there).

One wreck in the middle lane (bless their heart, we've all been there). Though I do wonder - was someone looking too long at the broken down car, and didn't stop in time? I remind the boys - look at the road, not at the scenery.

One car straddled two lanes until I honked my horn (Something I try not to do frequently. Never know how pissed off it might make somebody). Then she decided on my lane. Oh, joy.

One car that at every light would swerve when he started off. How do I know? I was behind him at several. See there are TEN lights between our home and the high school plus a bridge over a major interstate. You get to share a lot of together time with some other drivers. I suspect he was surfing his phone at every light and when the light changed, it was a little difficult to put down the phone, and drive off in your own lane. To his credit once he got going he seemed fine. Until the next light...

And that's not an all encompassing list.

See the thing about taking them to school, is the traffic. If the other cars would just stay home, it wouldn't be so bad. Or I could homeschool them. Now THAT would really pay a therapist well. Wonder if they give a discount to mothers? Oh, well. At least it's Friday...wait, they're in the marching band. That means I get to take them and pick them up on Saturday, too. Sigh...I love those kids. Obviously.

Bully Pulpit

Hubby and I will spend next Sunday morning taking our turn at teaching youth Sunday School. It's always an interesting experience. Sitting with a room full of teenagers is like staring into an abyss. You don't know what's out there, but you're pretty sure there is something. Some of the teens will speak up, others, like the two that we've been raised by, will sit silently and stare.

Yet, we're excited. It's always interesting to see where the discussion will lead, and this one will be particularly poignant to me. It's national anti-bullying month so the youth group leaders, and I have come up with a program which we hope will spark some discussions or at least linger in their minds. I'm collecting quotes from celebrities who felt bullied - we'll let them see if they can match them up. I'm also collecting quotes from fellow church members and leaders. I think it's helpful to see that people you respect and know personally have been through similar tough experiences. I remember as a teenager I thought all adults had it so together. Us adults know that ain't so. 

Trying to discuss bullying is hard for me. I've been bullied, and I know how it feels. Frankly my teen years give way too much fodder for discussion in regards to bullies. I think if you have empathy then when something occurs that hits close to home with one of your own experiences, the memories can almost overwhelm you. Recently there was a story about a girl in Michigan (Whitney Kropp) who was "jokingly" placed on the homecoming court. The (not so) cool kids thought it would be "funny". @$%^^&!!! I instantly was transported to the teen girl who was invited to a party at one of the cool kids houses. Ohhh, I was so delighted. I remember vividly the new outfit - cream colored velour lace up the front bell bottoms (don't hate me - it was the '70's and I was skinny), with a blue top and a silver ankh necklace. I was prepared to become cool. But becoming cool isn't possible if you've been invited to an event just to be the court jester. I also vividly remember how it felt when someone purposely tripped me, and the entire crowd laughed hysterically at me sprawled on the floor. Still I was a little dense, and stayed on. At least I stayed until I overheard some of the girls. The words used to describe me will not be used here. But I knew then that it was time to leave. So I called my parents. When Daddy came to pick me up, I started crying and the poor man didn't know what to do. He gave comfort as best he could. But it's hard to be a teenager discovering who you are when others are so quick to tell you who you aren't, and can't possibly ever become.

Now this may sound like one small instance. One bad memory that I should "just get over". But I have years of examples of name calling, and ridicule, humiliation and hurt. And I have to say that I feel sorry for the bullies, too. I wonder now just what was so hard in their lives that they needed to feel this power and superiority at my expense. Of course, having sympathy for them is made easier by having a wonderful marriage, and two kids I adore, and close friends who love me - regardless of my outfits. Somehow I was blessed with the ability to get up and walk away from the bullies. It doesn't mean it didn't affect who I am. Do NOT put me in a room full of women and expect the real me. I revert. I don't mean to, and I try not to, but I am overwhelmed at the prospect. I wrote "A Kind Place to Sit" over a year ago. I still look for someone kind in the room. And even at my age, sometimes they aren't there. Some of the young bullies just grow up to be more finessed bullies. That's where mercy, empathy, faith, compassion, and forgiveness can all play a part. Maybe they won't change. But how we react, and what we accept as reasonable behavior can change. We can each show others a level of respect and mercy whether it is shown to us or not. And we can teach our children to do that through our examples. I've had a few of my former bullies become my friends on Facebook. Most of them (not all) seem to have grown up and changed their ways. As our pastor pointed out yesterday in his sermon (Happiness Happens to Those Who Are Brokers of Second Chances) - second chances are important. I think they may be more important to us than to them. Second chances allow us to grow and change. I pray that the bullies change, and may the bullied have the strength to walk away and forgive them.